


Lullabies

by TammyRenH



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam, Dean takes care of his Sam, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mpreg, Mpreg!Sam, Soft sex, Top Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:34:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22756333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TammyRenH/pseuds/TammyRenH
Summary: Sam can’t sleep, the baby won’t settle, he feels big and unbeautiful. Dean takes care of him.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 16
Kudos: 298





	Lullabies

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SMPC. This is a follow up to Maybe This Time but can be read as a stand alone. In Maybe, Sam finds out he’s pregnant but is scared to hope or to tell Dean after two previous miscarriages.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Sam startles, almost drops the book he is holding in his hand. He had been staring at the same page for the last fifteen minutes or so, trying to get his tired mind to focus. He must have drifted.

“Easy champ.” Dean reaches over and takes the book from Sam, places it carefully on the coffee table. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Wasn’t scared.” Sam mumbles, struggling to sit up straighter. Everything is a struggle when you are seven months pregnant and as huge as a house.

“That must have been the baby that jumped like seven feet then.” Dean comments with a smile, he places a kiss on Sam’s stomach. “Not even here yet and Daddy is already pointing his long gnarly fingers at you.”

Sam swats him away. “What are you even doing up? It’s like four in the morning.”

“Woke up cold and alone.” Dean plops down on the couch beside Sam. “My furnace was missing so I had to go find him.”

Sam snorts and lays his head on Dean’s shoulder. “Furnace huh? Nice to know I am still good for something.”

“Also good at incubating.” Dean’s hand is once again on Sam’s stomach, where it usually lands when they are anywhere near each other, which they are most of the time.

A hunter friend of a hunter friend of Donna’s had let them use this cabin, deep in the woods of Nowhere Wyoming. Here they are known as Mr. and Mr. Smith, and if most people assume they are married, Sam and Dean let them.

Their nearest neighbors are four and a half miles down the road, an elderly couple named Joe and Sophia Greenhorn. Sophie has already made the baby three quilts. The last one was dark pink with lighter pink bunnies. Dean insisted there was no way a child of his was going to sleep under that much pink, but it was folded neatly in the dresser in the baby’s room along with the others.

“I don’t feel particularly good at incubating right now.” Sam confesses. His back hurts. It also turns out a lifetime of sleeping on his stomach makes it very hard to sleep when his stomach is so huge. “Your baby keeps kicking; I think she has her days and nights mixed up already.”

  
“Hmm.” Dean keeps rubbing Sam’s stomach. “I notice she’s our child during the daytime, but my child in the middle of the night. I see a lot of midnight feedings in my future.”

“Damn right.” Sam yawns and snuggles closer to Dean. Now he feels three seconds from falling to sleep, but he knows from bitter experience once he is in bed he will be restless, mind racing and body refusing to relax.

Dean moves, and Sam frowns at the loss of his nice solid pillow. Dean stands up and holds out his hand. “C’mon, let’s see if we can get you more comfortable so you can get some sleep.”

It takes three attempts for Sam to make it off the couch. He can’t imagine how he is going to get around in two months time. He will just have to find a place to sit and stay there, make Dean wait on him hand and food…actually that doesn’t sound like a bad idea at all.

In the bedroom, Dean sits Sam on the edge of the bed. “All right, let’s get these off of you.” He says, tugging on Sam’s sweatpants.

Sam looks up at him. “Taking my clothes off seems to be the opposite of helping get me comfortable.”

Dean smirks and wiggles his eyebrows. Sam rolls his eyes. A familiar call and response “I can’t believe you are even thinking about that. Look at me, I’m freaking huge.”

“You’ve always been freaking huge.” Dean says as Sam obediently lifts up his hips and Dean pulls his sweats and boxers off.

“You know what I mean.” Sam can hear himself, hears how pathetic he sounds, and yet still can’t stop himself from pouting. Fucking hormones. He lifts his arms, lets Dean pull the sleep shirt they had found in the bargain bin of a big and tall men’s store.

There is silence after his remark. Sam looks up to see Dean staring at him, eyes hungry, his upper teeth worrying his lower lip. Sam flushes, resists the urge to try to hide his huge belly, as if that was even possible.

“Lie down on your side.” Dean urges. “Let’s see if we can get some of those kinks out of your back.”

He hadn’t told Dean that his back was hurting, but of course Dean knew. Sometimes it hit Sam out of the blue, how lucky he was to have this man in his life.

Sam lays down on his side, huge stomach sticking out and squiggles around until he finds a position that is as comfortable as it is going to get for him. The baby, clearly upset about the change in her longitude, begins moving.

Dean kneels in front of the bed, a hand rubbing Sam’s stomach. “I guess Zee Zee didn’t get the message that it’s time to rest.”

“Zee Zee?” Sam asks.

“For ZZ Top. It’s perfect.” Dean grins up at him, that wide open fearless smile that always causes a flutter deep inside of Sam that has nothing to do with the baby.

“Yeah. No. Not happening.”

“Leppie? Cause she’s going to be a Def Leppard fan just like her Papa. No lame weepy pop for my girl.”

“Also no.”

“Acie Decie? Lynna Skinna? Blue Oyster or Oyster Blue?”

“I have chosen an idiot to be the father of my child.” Sam huffs. He shifts again, she’s really going to town in there.

Dean kisses the top of Sam’s rounded belly, then keeps on with his soothing rubbing. He begins to sing in a gruff, more-than-slightly off-key voice:

_Hush my darling, don’t fear, my darling_

_The lion sleeps tonight._

  
“Really?” Sam asks. “Seriously. You fuss if I play classical music, saying it will cause her to grow up all stuffy, but this is okay?”

“Shh, I’m trying to put the baby to sleep.” Dean chides, lips once again brushing against Sam’s stomach as he continues.

“ _Hush, my darling, don’t fear, my darling_

_The lions sleeps tonight._

_Weeheeheehee, dee heeheeheehee, weeoh aween away_

_A-weema-weh, a-weema-weh, a weema-weh, a-weema-weh_

Unbelievably, improbable as it is, it is working. Faith – as Sam has begun to call her in his head, though he’s not broached this with Dean yet, too scared of being instantly shut down (which to be fair he has done on a lot Dean’s choices of names, which, to be even more fair, Dean knew he would when he came up with his ridiculous choices), has begun to still.

Dean grins up at him, his voice lower, and almost close to being in tune as he finishes

_Rrrrr, lalaba, weeoh aweem away_

_A-wema-weh, a-weema-weh, a-weema-weh, a-weema-weh_

_A-weema-weh, a-weema-weh, a-weema-weh, a-weema-weh_

For a second there is nothing but silence. Sam places his hand over Dean’s, now both covering Sam’s belly, and their miracle little girl.

Dean stands up and Sam pulls his hand away, looking up at his brother.

“Now that I’ve taken care of her.” Dean says. “It’s your turn.”

Dean undresses quickly, throwing his clothes on a nearby chair. Once undressed, he stands before Sam, beautiful, naked, his.

He kneels down again, kisses Sam softly, almost reverently. Moves his lips further down, soft kisses covering Sam’s stomach. “You are beautiful.”

Sam wants to scoff, but Dean kisses him again, lays the softest of claims to Sam’s lips, a hand stroking his stomach. “You are Sam. So beautiful.”

He sounds so sincere, so in awe, Sam desperately wants to believe him.

“Let’s get you comfortable.” The moment has passed, and Sam sighs and lets it go.

Dean climbs in behind Sam, pushes him around a bit so that Sam is leaning forward. His hands begin rubbing Sam’s shoulders .”Fuck, Sam, you are so tense. There must be a thousand knots back here, this might take all night.”

Sam bends his neck forward to give Dean more access. “You’d better get started then. This is all your fault anyway. You are the reason I am carrying this hyper-active baby who thinks my bladder is some kind of ball just asking to be kicked.”

He may sound a bit petulant, but he’s so freaking tired.

“I could get on board with having an athletic child. Although I fear she’s doomed to be a geeky one.” Dean teases as his fingers perform their magic. Sam can already feel some of the tension drifting away. “Also, I am pretty sure I didn’t get you pregnant all on my lonesome.”

Sam can feel himself relaxing more by the moment, his body sinking deeper into the mattress. “Says the ‘condoms are for one-night-stands not for my one and only’ guy. It’s hard to believe you ever got laid with that kind of pick-up line.”

“Worked on you didn’t it?” Dean’s hands are going lower, mid-back now, and as they inch lower still, Sam’s beginning to be aware he isn’t quite as relaxed as he original thought. Fucking hormones.

Dean notices, because of course he does. “Well I see somebody’s Sex Pistol is awake.”

“Oh my god, didn’t we already have the discussion where you are not allowed to name my cock or any other part of my body?” Sam might be mortified, but his cock is swelling even more, clearly happy with the attention it is getting. Traitor.

Dean’s hand lands on Sam’s hip and then inches forward slowly, torturously so. “Weapon of Destruction, love staff, big Willie, The Python, Moby Dick...”

‘You are not allowed to name anything ever – “ Sam’s words dissolve into a gasp as Dean’s hand wraps around his cock. He goes from kinda hard to could cut glass in as long as it takes Dean to stroke him from tip all the way down and back up again.

Dean’s hand disappears and Sam barely bites back a whine as he hears the unmistakable sound of a cap being popped off. “I thought you were supposed to be helping me relax.”

A finger, wet with lube is pressed against his hole. “Oh, trust me, you will be relaxed after this.”

The finger presses in all the way, and Sam arches, as much as he can. Dean knows what he can take, and Sam trusts him to get him what he needs.

Sam reaches down and begins to slowly stroke himself as one of Dean’s hands rests possessively on his hip and the other finger continues to pump in and out. They have sex regularly (very regularly after Sam’s hormones really kicked in) and it isn’t long until one finger becomes two becomes three. Dean is scissoring and stretching but not once does he touch Sam’s prostate because he is the most evil brother ever. “Dean.” Sam pushes back against the fingers inside of him. “C’mon, I need it.”

“I know what you need.” The fingers are removed and replaced with the tip of Dean’s lube-slicked cock. “I will take care of you, I always do.”

Dean inches in slowly, so slowly, so carefully, as if Sam was a fragile thing, not a fully grown six-foot-four man. His hand remains on Sam’s hip, fingers gently stroking the sensitive dip there.

“So beautiful.” Dean whispers against his neck, breath hot, his other hand flexing in Sam’s hair. “So good to me Sammy.”

He pulls back out just as slowly, carefully, and the same languid thrust back in. His lips are on Sam’s neck, kissing and sucking and his hand in Sam’s hair is stroking and giving a slight tug every now and then. Sam is so lost in the sensation of the slow drag in and out that he doesn’t even realize his hand has stilled on his cock.

The hand on his hip reaches over further, rubbing against Sam’s stomach.“You are the hottest fucking thing I have ever seen Sam.” Dean whispers as he continues his gentle little pushes in and out of Sam. “I’ve heard that pregnant people glow but – fuck Sam.”

His hand goes higher, ghosts over Sam’s nipples which are instantly hard. Dean is kissing his way across Sam’s back, lavishing attention to the area between his shoulders. He never stops rocking into Sam, never alters his pace. A gentle push in, pull out, back in and Sam’s drifting, Dean’s voice, hands, lips his anchor.

He loves it when Dean is rough and demanding, loves to take charge sometimes too, but this – this is something akin to being worshipped. This is beginning to maybe believe Dean when he says he’s beautiful, when sometimes all Sam can see is how huge and ungainly he’s gotten.

Dean’s thrusts are shallower, just tiny pulses in and out, there aren’t bright sparks when his prostate is nudged, just brief flares of pleasure. “Feel so good. Always feel so good. Like you were made for this. Made for me.”

A tiny nip on a shoulder, a fingertip brushing against a nipple. Sam is reminded of how hard he is, how much he needs to come.

He starts stroking himself again but isn’t surprised at all when Dean nudges his hand away.“Lee me.” He says, and his strokes are in time with his thrusts – slow. Sam thinks of the waves of the ocean, gently rippling, as the tide moves in. 

“I’m not glass. Dean. Won’t break.” He can hear how husky his voice sounds. It feels almost too much, feels like something he is maybe not worthy of.

“Just close your eyes, enjoy the ride.” Sam can feel Dean’s smile against his neck, as he continues his soft pushes in, out. “Next time I promise to be rough as you want, pound you with my hammer so good.”

“You officially suck at dirty talk. Besides it’s more like a leaky valve than a hammer.” Sam quips, and yelps when his hair is tugged hard.

“Brat.” There is no heat to the word that Dean whispers into his shoulder. Dean refuses to get riled though, his hands, his lips, still so soft and sweet. Every touch is a caress, every whispered word of love a lullaby.

Defenses wearing down, there’s nothing for Sam to do but melt into the sensation.

Sam has no idea how long the gentle rocking goes on; he’s lost all sense of time and space. He just – surrenders. Let’s Dean take care of him. Let’s himself just be in the moment, lets Dean fill him up.

“I’m close Sam.” Dean says, and Sam notices his rhythm is beginning to falter. The thrusts in are more solid, he’s pulling out faster. Dean’s breathing is staccato, his hand on Sam’s cock not as gentle. “C’mon Sam, I want us to come together.”

Sam can feel his balls tighten, a Pavlovian response to anytime Dean asks him to come. He can feel the tension building up low in his stomach. Dean is rapidly stroking Sam’s cock, teasing Sam’s slit in the way he knows will drive Sam crazy. He’s thrusting in with more intent, still not rough but the need is unmistakable. “C’mon sweetheart. Come for me.”

Sam does, calling out Dean’s name like a prayer. The orgasm crashes over and through him, his come covering the blanket in front of him, his cock pulsing as it empties. Dean follows him over the edge, spilling deep inside of Sam. 

There is a long pause, where Dean’s hand returns to Sam’s hip and the sound of both their harsh breathing hangs in the air.

“So, relaxed now?” Dean asks. Sam’s eyes are closing, but in his mind’s eye he can easily imagine Dean’s smirk.

He wants to say something snarky back, but his mind is too hazy to focus so all he manages is “Yeah.”

He hears Dean get off the bed and feels the warm wet towel as it cleans him up. Dean urges him further back, away from the wet spot, and Sam tiredly goes. Dean climbs back in bed behind him, apparently he’s going to be the big spoon tonight. Neither bother getting dressed again.

Dean’s hand returns to the hip that he has held so many nights. His front is a warm, steady pressure to Sam’s back. Sam doesn’t mind curling up a little so they fit.

“Faith.” Sam whispers as sleep begins to drag him under. “I think we should name her Faith.”

He doesn’t hear Dean’s response but the next day there is a new sign on the nursery door, wooden letters carefully cut out and painted by her Papa’s hands.

Faith.


End file.
